


fragment

by Anonymous



Category: Kagerou Project
Genre: Masturbation, Rape/Non-con Elements, specifically non-con masturbation look at the pair and work it out in your head ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-18
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2018-01-16 04:16:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1331542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Konoha starts feeling out of place in his own body.</p>
            </blockquote>





	fragment

**Author's Note:**

> Non-con masturbation Kuroha/Konoha. Well. Here it is.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t noticed it.

A growing sense of discomfort in his own body.

A pounding sensation in his head, cleaving his brain in two.

But he never thought to do anything about it. Maybe it was normal. Maybe he was just a little sick. He had never gotten sick before, at least not in his two years of memory, but there was a first time for everything. So, for weeks, he continued his life as normal.

Then, he started having dreams. He had heard of them before, but whether he had experienced them or not, Konoha never recalled having any prior. 

They always began with foggy, shapes of people and muffled talking he couldn’t understand. They ended the same, in illogical scene of blood and gore, screams of terror echoing, heads disconnected from bodies, deep red pouring from gaping wounds, guts strewn about like confetti.

He wondered what it meant.

It was starting to get frightening. He didn’t like it.

He did nothing.

He had been napping when things suddenly became exponentially worse. The dream returned, the same as usual, but the horrific scenes didn’t end when he woke up. As he opened his eyes blearily, they continued, snapshots appearing intermittently, cries bouncing around in his head.

Konoha rubbed furiously at his eyes, panicking, opening them wide and squeezing them shut. The images became more persistent. He curled in on himself. A voice rose above the others. For the first time, it addressed him directly.

Come on, are you really not going to fight back at all? Konoha could see a sharp edged sneer form in the back of his mind—vague facial features that seemed to blur and twist but the eyes and pointed teeth strikingly clear, even as other images flashed in his mind—he watched the tongue click against the roof of the mouth in disappointment. Felt himself mimicking the action, unconsciously. 

It’s like taking advantage of a child. I almost feel bad. 

A child. Two years. How old was he supposed to be again? Eighteen? Twenty? Somewhere around there, he thought. Was he being taken advantage of? Where did this voice even come from? 

Konoha flipped to rest on his side, bringing his legs in and wrapping his arms around them, burying his head into his knees. He wanted to ignore this voice, ignore the frightening images flashing through his mind, but it made no difference if he closed his eyes or opened them. 

A laugh echoed in his mind, stuttered and uneven and wrong, and involuntarily, the edges of Konoha’s mouth twisted upwards, and he too found himself snickering, breathily and quietly, but with the same hysteric quality as the voice in his mind. Pale pink eyes shine with tears and Konoha finds himself paralyzed. His body, like his thoughts, were out of his control, but he still remained, somewhere, able to hear his breath speed up and see his arms shake and feel burning tears run down his flustered face, leaving cool tracks behind.

He could hear himself laugh, harder now, and watch as his own body shifted upright without his command, leaning against the frame of the bed and examining his trembling hands. Grabbed at his skin, pulling and twisting and clawing, scratching bright red lines down his forearm, drawing little beads of blood with broken fingernails. Yanked at his hair, prodded at teeth, pulling roughly at his eyes, bringing bloody fingertips dangerously close.

Konoha tried desperately to regain control. To move even a pinky, or say one word. But nothing. His headache only worsened, and he felt his face contort, sneering as the face in his mind had.

“What an idiot you are—such a weak mind in a body as strong as this. It’s like a gift just for me, isn’t it?” His mouth formed the words, peppered with pauses and cracks as it seems to test out the syllables.

“Do you even count as a human anymore?”

Konoha thinks he’s never quite felt such a pain before in his life. More than even the loss of control over his own body, he had never felt so powerless in his current memory. It was pathetic, how vulnerable he was.

The hands began to wander around his own body, gentler now, but tense with malicious intent. He felt himself continue to speak, each syllable coming out a bit clearer. “Less than even an animal, you’re hardly even living.” The hands paused at the top of his pants, fingertips prodding at the edges.

“How about the most basic, primal desire?”

His hips were lifted, and his pants and underwear pulled down around his knees. His hands returned, running up his thighs and stopping just before his crotch. Konoha’s presence in his own mind had faded beyond words, and could only convey a vague sense of confusion over his fear.

His body shook in a stifled chuckle, and the words of course seemed to be implied, or perhaps had been imparted directly to his mind, Konoha had a hard time distinguishing as things were. He didn’t have much more time to ponder as his right hand gripped around the shaft of his penis it, firmly but not roughly. Slowly, it stroked, switching from a firm grip to just fingertips and back. It took some time, but soon an erection was present, and his hand began to speed up.

The feeling was incomprehensible, and Konoha no longer had speech or movement to even express it. Upsetting, definitely, but there was an underlying sensation of pleasure that rippled through his body and buzzed in his mind. 

It was rough and dry and it was too much for both Konoha and the invasive presence to go quickly, so it settled to a medium pace, taking time to rub almost curiously at the head. His breath has sped up, his mouth left open to pant as his heart begins to race. The presence in his mind seemed only slightly more familiar with the sensation of these actions than Konoha was himself, and it almost seemed to lose its grip on him. The images that had faded momentarily from Konoha’s mind’s eye return suddenly, this time less coherent, with colors more vibrant and unreal, already twisted limbs distorted further. Heads and hands and scales and eyes flickering for split seconds and disappearing and Konoha still doesn’t know who these people are but it hurts him nonetheless.

And in that moment, he gasped. Not his possessor, but his own voice. But before Konoha could process it, he lost control again, body frozen for a split second before returning to rubbing at his penis, forcefully and almost painful. Konoha’s thoughts are a stream of “no” and “stop,” and his hand stutters in its movements but does not halt. 

The voice hasn’t communicated with him directly for minutes but the more he seemed to fight it, the more roughly it treated his body, so Konoha takes a different approach and tries to retreat into himself and escape the sensation entirely. Nut trying to shut the experience out only makes the images more vivid, so instead Konoha finds himself trapped between his body and mind, unable to do anything as he was filled with a form of sickening pleasure.

With Konoha subdued, the presence slows his hand down a bit, taking to enjoy the feeling. Pants had given way to soft moans and low grunts that his possessor didn’t care to stifle. Every once in a while, a more drawn out moan would escape him, a kind of shameless that made even Konoha radiate discomfort from within his own mind.

He felt himself smile again, wide and forced and his tongue peaked out to lick at his lips. The sensation became even more intense, and his body shook desperately. The pleasure had begun to build exponentially, and its release, whatever that may be, was fast approaching. 

There was a sudden moment of clarity when he came, where he could plainly see the texture of the white ceiling above him as his back arched up, unobscured by the haze in his brain. Everything had melted into pure pleasure coursing through his body for those few seconds.

After the feeling had washed away, Konoha found himself back in control. The voice seemed to be gone, and his mind was clear again. 

He couldn’t even find it in himself to feel relieved.

For a few minutes, he could only lay down flat on the bed, some kind of sticky white substance covering his hand and abdomen, breathing heavily, body jerking involuntarily.

He couldn’t even begin to process what had happened, the fear and disgust and the sudden eruption of pleasure giving way to exhaustion. 

He felt sore all over and his head was pounding, and all he could do was lay there, tears again pricking his eyes. 

Darkness overcame him, and Konoha slipped into a state of unconsciousness.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this. its 12:15 am and i wrote this. i wanted to write kuroha/konoha and this is what i wrote. ohhh golly gosh. i wrot e thi
> 
> edit 11/16: i wrote this and either i didn't know anything about what kuroha was, why he was, or i was just totally out of it. also i think i was under the influence, i have no recollection of doing this or this account. its surreal


End file.
